


darling, stay gold

by matsinko



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Small Town, Illustrated, M/M, Slice of Life, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-02-16 04:07:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13046163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/matsinko/pseuds/matsinko
Summary: After his mother loses his job and is unable to pay rent, Kageyama is forced to leave Karasuno and move away to his grandmother’s in a tiny, rural town in the mountainy prefecture of Okayama. A new school and a barely functional volleyball team, he’s forced to leave his dreams behind and move on. But the captain of the volleyball team won’t leave him alone.





	darling, stay gold

**Author's Note:**

> this is my piece for the haikyuu big bang 2017 in collaboration with mona @tenowls (stay tuned for her lovely art!) and beta-ed by allison @mymusicismylife77. this fic has been incredibly challenging to write bc my life changed drastically from when i first started writing it, so i’d like to thank everyone who put up with me - mona, allison, beca, hope, and the hqbb team - thank you ;;
> 
> some changes for the sake of the plot to keep in mind:  
> \- karasuno hs is located in sendai (the largest city in miyagi), not in torono  
> \- also yukigaoka is a high school (not middle school) near arata, a fictional rural town in okayama prefecture

 

The first time his mother tells Tobio they’re moving, he’s coming home after a particularly satisfying win.

His team had won.

Half a year ago he didn’t believe in teamship; he thought his middle school days would drag him down as chains around his ankles, a shadow not far behind his back. But half a year ago, he got into Karasuno with carefully woven expectations, promising himself he’ll let his skills speak instead of words. One year ago was when Tobio first felt what it meant to be accepted as he is.

It was not perfect, but it was working. They fought and they bickered, but they also learnt to work together, to compromise. He still felt a bit caged in terms of his potential but he had a particularly energetic sempai who worked decently with Tobio, a very reliable team captain, and an intelligent vice-captain who helped him match his skills to the others’. With their backs guarded by a talented libero, Karasuno grew to have good defense and reasonable offense.

They grew enough to get a win after another and just when Tobio started to get his hopes up, a tiny little spark that he’ll make it this time — he’ll have a team that he can go to nationals with — he comes home and his whole world crumbles.

“I lost my job,” is the only explanation his mother provides. Your father won’t help, is what she doesn’t say, but Tobio knows. He knows and that’s why he keeps his head low, says okay, says he will finally see his grandmother again and that’s something, right?

And as September starts to roll to an end, Tobio’s mom doesn’t pay the next month’s rent and their landlord gives them a polite after his mother arranges the leave. They have their belongings packed in boxes and stuffed in the back of their car, moving away, leaving behind his old life, like dust behind his back.

He watches as the houses turn to trees and the trees turn to fields and he dozes off with thoughts of volleyball, of the upcoming Spring High Representative Playoffs that he will never get to attend, of a team which he could have belonged in, but not anymore.

He wakes up when the road becomes too rocky, too wobbly, and his head hits the window of the car. He winces and opens his eyes to a thick curtain of trees, and a road so small he wonders if they’ll fall off the face of the world by the end of it.

“It’s not far now,” his mom says in a soothing voice and all Tobio wishes for is that it is.

 

The town is tiny, smaller than he remembers it from his childhood days; it’s snuggled deep into the mountains, surrounded by trees as far as the eye can see. The air is heavy, damp over his skin like a veil. It smells of pine, earth and leaves to the point it irritates his nose with how foreign it is, how different it feels compared to Miyagi.

The roads are small, uneven, like vines around the town, constellations of cracks on the streets’ pavement, long forgotten, old and ugly. The footpath turns into dust that turns into beaten earth and the car pulls over in front of a big, old wooden house.

“We’re here, darling,” his mother says and places a reassuring palm over his shoulder, “let’s get the boxes in, shall we?”

They’re greeted by a tiny old woman, whose face Tobio barely recognises as his grandmother's. Time has changed her since he last met her; her hair is whiter, wrinkles like miniature gullies over her face.

He bows politely, distantly. She offers him a warm smile and kisses her daughter hello. For a brief moment, Tobio’s mom seems happy. For a brief moment he allows himself to think the move is all worth it.

He helps her get all the boxes inside, settles them into the rooms prepared for them. Rooms that are too wide, too big and too empty; hollow, impersonal.

Tobio pulls out his volleyball out of the first box, places it in the corner, shuts the sliding doors to his room and cries until his throat is raw and eyes are dry.

 

Dinner the same night makes him sick in his stomach. He manages to eat exactly three bites until he puts his chopsticks down with an unintended clank.

“You’re going to get used to it, Tobio,” his grandmother soothes.

“I’ll go for a walk,” he answers in return and gets up, leaving the rest of his food untouched.

His mother tries to retort that it isn’t polite, but he catches the, “Leave him be, Sakiko” just as he’s walking out of the door and he mentally thanks his grandmother for it.

Tobio runs, following the beaten path then the cracks on the pavement. He runs on tiny streets twisting like vines, left and right and left again, and up an unfamiliar staircase. He runs until his legs can barely hold him, until there are no stairs left to run up on.

There is a temple where the stairs melt unto earth again; an old, dusty thing, made of cracked paint, wood and concrete, surrounded by weeds.

Tobio’s mind buzzes with exhaustion, his ears heavy from the pressure of being so high up in the mountains for the first time in years. He props his palms on his knees, doubles over, and breathes — in and out, in and out — until his heart calms its thrumming in his chest.

There is shouting in the distance, shouting in this godforsaken town, echoing between trees and wooden houses, between the pillars of the plain old temple.

The shouting is coming somewhere from below and is drawing nearer, catching Tobio’s attention like a forest song.

When the voices come close enough for Tobio to hear distinctive words, he finds out there _is_ actually singing among the echoes of the voices, ringing around, a voice high and pearly, excited and childish.

“We are going to be the best,” the voice sings which is promptly followed by a, “Shut up, Shou-chan!” by a softer, calmer voice.

“We are going to win and win and win,” the voice continues making up the song. Tobio can’t decide if it’s unpleasant or if he wants to hear more.

“Win and win and win!”

The voice curls on the words, soft and pearly, and the sound glides in between the trees. It is so close, so close that if Tobio stays where he is he will soon meet its owner face-to-face. So Tobio does what he does best — he hides. He hurries, rounds one of the pillars, and stays there, back pressed to the cold cement.

“Hey, when we said we will join your team, we meant we will fill in only for competitions,” Tobio hears someone say, the voice dipped in measured regret.

“I know!” the owner of the song replies, fast as an arrow, “I’m still excited though!”

Excitement, high and happy, bounces off the trees and the pillars, and goes straight to where Tobio is standing. It’s a voice dipped in sunshine, making Tobio wonder about this team of his. About his own team too. That he left them, he left... he lost his teammates, and this person gained some.

He wonders if that’s just how life works. And he thinks of the Spring High playoffs, of the possibility of prospect, of happy cheers and loud shouts, of hope that Karasuno will once again go to nationals. He wonders how far they’ll go, how long they’ll fight. He almost manages to tune out the voices until the boy starts singing again.

And with a song vibrating through the air, he slides down the wall and stays there until he’s all alone again. The trees are oddly quiet as if all the forest spirits followed the boy with the sunshine voice, leaving only silence behind.

 

He spends the whole of next day unpacking. It’s the Sunday before he starts school and he busies himself in dusting, arranging and rearranging until he’s tired, muscles buzzing under the pressure. He organises his room, reorganises it, tries so hard to make it look like it did back at Sendai. It doesn’t work.

There is a sorry excuse of a futon where his bed used to be, a small wooden table instead of a desk. His belongings barely cover the edges of the room: sports magazines and books neatly stacked on the faded wooden shelves, his clothes carefully folded in the small closet. The room hollow, empty, a shadow of his old life.

He looks at the volleyball, a physical object, solid and present.

Then why does it feel it’s the thing that’s the furthest away?

 

The next day his mother drives him to school, kisses him goodbye, “Be good, Tobio,” she says as he’s closing the car’s door.

It’s a small school, a tiny building painted in pale green, plain and unsightly. It makes Tobio wonder if it even has a proper gymnasium. But he doesn’t dwell on the thought since he promised himself he’ll let go.

A volleyball in the corner of his new room.

The same one as those left behind in the Karasuno gym.

He goes to find his homeroom teacher, a youthful-looking man, probably in his thirties with a wide smile, and eyes turning into half moons. He offers the class schedule to Tobio and he trots after the man obediently, while he briefs him about the school history, and what to expect from his classes and club activities.

Tobio finds out that the school, as expected, has half as many classes than Karasuno — two to be precise — so it doesn’t have as much club options either. In terms of sports, it has a girls’ volleyball club, a boys’ basketball club, a boys’ soccer club, track and a newly formed boys’ volleyball club.

He doesn’t allow excitement to sweep through his veins and wills his heart to stay still.

The school has a team.

 _The school has a team_ when he thought it didn’t.

But it’s a new team, a team formed in the middle of nowhere, among tall trees and humid air, among cracks in the pavement and walls painted ugly lime green.

It’s a team that no scouts will come looking for, a team that will suffocate under the unexpected loneliness of living in a place so secluded.

He is back to being on his own again.

But after classes and a hundred or so awkward hellos, after lunch and taking notes and even more classes, he finds his feet on autopilot, stumbling over the distance to the gym.

He needs to check, to see with his own eyes, one peek, nothing more. The sound of the ball hitting the gym floor drums in his ear. It’s a good sound, a familiar sound, exciting and soothing at the same time.

The gym itself is old, unkempt, with peeling paint and discoloured wooden floors, scratched and shabby, nothing like Karasuno’s.

There are barely 6 people in the gym. There are no reserves, no second string -- just 6 people playing three-on-three. It’s all wrong, wonky and inconsistent, one stupid mistake after another. Most of them are too inexperienced. Tobio can tell by the way their palms collide with the ball, in all the wrong angles and incorrect postures.

He’s about to turn around and walk out as he hears a loud voice giving boisterous encouragements, waves of yelled “don’t worry, you’ll get it next” and “good job” and “of course we can win”. A laugh, pearly and high, it bounces off the walls on repeat.

So familiar, like that song in the woods.

And then the boy jumps, brave, unafraid. He jumps fast and high in a flash of orange, and spikes the ball as if he’s meant to do that.

Wild eyes, a fiery enigma.

If only if he wasn’t born here, Tobio thinks. He knows potential when he sees it, but he also recognises inexperience, rawness, lousiness.

He shouldn’t really stay. He should turn around and go, but there is something, a part of him that acts on instinct, quick and foolish. Before he can stop himself he’s shouting, “What have you been doing in the past 3 years?”

He’s angry and he doesn’t even know why.

The ball drops, the sound cutting through the silence - _thud thud thud_ \- as if he’s dropped a ball right in the middle of a wedding ceremony vows’ part.

Everyone turns.

 

He doesn’t know how he ended up like this. He doesn’t know how he ended up with fire in his veins, burning, flowing in his body like lifeblood, fueling whatever feeling is making him agree to this stupid, meaningless challenge.

He knows he’ll win even before the full sentence forms on the boy’s lips. _I’ll challenge you!_

Hell, he would win even if he was facing a bunch of them.

Yet there he is, going to fetch another ball, lining himself up for another serve. He breathes in, closes his eyes, lets the feeling of the ball imprint itself on his palm.

Then he serves. A jump serve, a weapon, he learnt two years ago from a senpai, a rival he won’t ever encounter again here in this god forgotten town in this god forgotten mountain. With small streets, and small people; with tiny volleyball teams that aren’t made for nationals.

The boy lines himself up well for the second receive, Tobio almost thinks he’ll get this one, but the ball ricochets in all the wrong angles and hits the boy in the face.

Just as Tobio is about to give up, to tell him it’s over, to tell him it’s not worth his time, the boy is back on his feet, a flash of orange, eyes wild, open, liquid gold.

“One more!” he yells. His voice resonates around the gym, vibrates in between Tobio’s ribs on repeat.

He stares, allows himself a second to look back at those fiery eyes, dipping his fingers in promises of a challenge, of promises of endless energy and excitement that burns strong.

But the boy misses the next serve as well, and the next one, and the one after. Annoyance sweeps through Tobio’s veins again, hot and boiling. He has allowed himself to hope, to have expectations, and yet all he gets is a person with talent so raw, Tobio can barely tell it apart between the layers and layers of inexperience. It’s like the dust and cracks in the pavement that lead him nowhere.

Desire alone doesn’t make good players. Tobio knows that. They have no coach, barely enough members to even play, no libero. A quick look around the gym tells him this much.

He drops the next ball. He walks straight out of where he came from, ignoring the angry screams of the orange-haired boy, ignoring the tug inside his chest.

“Hey, come back! We’re not done yet!”

“I’ll definitely save the next one!”

“Hey!”

 

They eat their dinner mostly in silence, with only the occasional small talk between his mom and grandmother breaking the monotone murmur of the small heater buzzing from the corner of the room. Tobio tunes all of it out, trying to focus on his rice and fish, but his thoughts keep coming back to that orange hair and eyes made of gold.

 

It’s during lunch break the next day, when he’s reminded of the volleyball team again. It comes in the form of a tall, dark-eyed girl with a proud face, all sharp features and lean body. A muddy green and black striped uniform bow neatly tied over her shirt is a clue she’s a third year.

“Kageyama-kun, right?” the girl asks, with a small, cautious smile on her lips.

Tobio nods in return.

He can feel the eyes of his classmates on them, soft murmuring filling the room.

“I’m Manaka, Manaka Kaho, captain of the girls’ volleyball team. I help the boys with training and managing the team, since-” her voice trails off for a second, eyes growing concerned, “-they don’t really have enough members.”

Tobio stares back, a crease between his eyebrows. He knows why she’s here, and he wishes he could just avoid what’s to follow.

“I can tell you’re a good player, Tobio-kun,” she continues as she places a sheet of paper tentatively on his desk. It has ‘Club Application’ written on top. “Please consider joining. We really need a player of your calibre with the boys’ first preliminaries just around the corner.”

Tobio wants to be polite, he really wants to but he can’t help the snort that escaped his lips.

 _Preliminaries, huh?_ He thinks about Karasuno, about having another chance at beating Seijou, of the prospect of facing Shiratorizawa, arguably the best of the best in their prefecture. He misses this, he misses the exciting thrill of being in a good team, of knowing you have a _chance_.

This team here wouldn’t even get past round one, he is sure of it.

“I’m sorry, I’m not interested in losing,” he mumbles, pushing the sheet back towards the girl. He then turns his gaze towards the window, focusing on nothing in particular.

He can feel her unfaltering stare at the back of his head.

Manaka leaves without another word.

 

His mother sees the application, untouched on the coffee table.

“Ah, Tobio, you’re going to play again?” she chirps, bringing her palms together in excitement.

“No, not on this team,” is all Tobio provides as an answer.

His mother’s face falls, but she doesn’t pressure him. Instead, she smiles, “Get dressed and come help your mother with shopping.”

They walk in silence on the dusty path from their house that turns into cracked pavement. It’s a tiny road, surrounded by trees and houses. The smell of forest is again heavy in the air, pine and earth mixed together.

“I didn’t mean to upset you, Tobio,” his mom speaks cautiously, “but I do believe moving is good for us.”

“I had a team back there,” Tobio answers and it comes harsher than intended. He presses his lips together to keep silent, fingers curling into fists.

He had a dream. And it was big: going to Nationals, racking up victories, being scouted, going professional. But all of that is impossible now. So he needs to adjust. He needs to come up with another plan.

“Do you remember how you used to say you’re gonna play on your own if you had to, and that was enough to win?” She chuckles, with fondness attached from the way her eyes turn into half-moons.

“And then I learned that you cannot win alone in volleyball,” he retorts sharply.

“Of course,” his mom replies, “but that’s not the point, Tobio,” she sighs, crossing her hands in front of her body. “You were determined. You always were. You’re upset right now, but you always find your way back to volleyball.”

Tobio stays silent at that, his thoughts whirling together in a storm, clouding his mind. He doesn’t want to give it up, but playing amateur volleyball will just stall his progress. This town will stall his progress. He needs to train on his own. College is still an option, right?

“What I’m saying is,” his mom says, giving him a flick on the forehead to bring his attention back to her, “make them notice you. The scouts. The other teams. You’ve always had that in you.“

“I—,” Tobio tries, but his words dry out in his mouth. He wants to retort, he wants to say, _“But you haven’t seen them!”, “They’re as good as middle schoolers!”_ and _“It’s a joke.”_

The bell of the convenience store jingles as his mom pulls the door open and he shakes his head, refocusing.

An old woman in a worn out white apron and salt and pepper hair greets them from the counter and his mother offers a polite bow in return.

He shakes his head, chasing the thoughts away, and grabs an old, rusty basket from the neat stack near the door.

 

He comes home to two text messages.

> **From: Tsukishima**
> 
> 4:34 We’re still going to win.
> 
> 4:35 Make sure you go to Nationals, King.

Tobio stares, lips parted in surprise.

He never expected any of his old teammates to contact him, least of all Tsukishima.

Unlike his middle school teammates, they had accepted him, and been patient with him, but he never considered them friends. The moment he told his captain that he was leaving the team was the moment he thought that he’d heard the last of them.

There is an unsaid challenge between the lines, an acknowledgement he never thought he had from a person he never thought would speak of winning.

Confusion melts into irritation so hot it burns him from the inside. Tobio knows he’s quick to anger, he knows he lets it get to him, yet he holds on - a feeling so familiar, like a lifeboat.

Sadness, jealousy, regret, grief — they’re all so foreign, scary. Anger’s easier. It burns brightly, it overwhelms the rest, it sharpens his loneliness into a spear. It’s all he needs, to deal, to grow.

It’s how he had always known himself. It’s how he’d been. Since his dad walked away on them, since his mother last held him while he cried — her voice, soft and mellow, the sadness dulling the sharp ring of her lullaby. She sang for him, the way he liked when he was little. “Don’t be sad, Tobio. You and I, we’re strong. You shine the brightest and no one will ever turn away again.”

He types back. “What nationals?” His finger lingers on the send button. Useless. He deletes the text, throws his phone back on the futon, and goes for a run.

 

Tobio feels the eyes of the townspeople on him like ants, crawling, climbing, eating at his skin until it hurts and prickles. He doesn’t blend in even in his school uniform. His old Karasuno gakuran was plain, black and familiar around his body. Yukigaoka’s is the same but with undecorated buttons and no collar-pins to represent the school or class rank. It’s simple, a public school token, simple as the peeling muted lime green paint of the school building.

He unbuttons the top button that his mother has buttoned as she kissed him goodbye this morning and takes a deep breath. But his breath constricts below his ribcage, as if the staring continues to follow him even as he takes the beaten path through the woods towards the school.

Yukigaoka is located at the edge of the neighbouring town, where the steep hills and dusty roads of Arata melt into fields, a rare valley in between mountain peaks, a place that hugs a town big enough to have a high school. Arata barely has enough houses to call it a town, it shrinks and shrinks and Tobio does too.

It takes him 45 minutes of walking, down the road, the broken stairs, and through the forest. It probably takes him more time arguing with his mother that he doesn’t need to be driven there than to actually go. He likes walking, but he hates the way people would stare. The more they do, the louder he puts the volume of his music. He drowns his thoughts until they stop. When they do, he breathes again.

When the road curves and thins in between the trees, Tobio stops his music and yanks his earphones out. The wind blows south and the trees swing under its call, yellowed leaves cling stubbornly to their branches. They’re going to fall soon, cover the land in red and yellows, and then autumn will hug the forest in a cool embrace.

Tobio likes autumn, likes wearing his uniform without overheating. Mornings here are cooler, the chill sweeps in the muddy ground and keeps the towns, huddled among hills and trees, colder. The leaves block the sun, keeping it above the trees as if another world exists under it. A quiet world, where Tobio is alone, and volleyball no longer exists.

He hates it.

 

Kids flock around the school gates, talking and whispering. Tobio puts back his earphones, stuffs his hands in his pockets, and lowers his head. He knows they’ll stare, he knows they’ll talk. The boy who moved before September had a chance to end. The boy who’s so foreign that no matter how much his uniform looks the same, no matter how much he tries to blend in, he stands out, like a black spot in their lime green school. He’s black and blue and they’re green.

The schoolyard is tiny and still, the students barely fill it up; Tobio can almost imagine it being completely silent, at juxtaposition of Karasuno’s yard early in the morning, where the voices of the students would carry a couple of blocks away, where he would race the early tumult to class.

When he walks into classroom 1-2, he keeps his head even lower, eyes focused on the cracks in the floor, tries to count them, while he walks to his desk - the last one at the back, right next to the window.

There are 10 minutes left to class and Tobio realises his mistake to have arrived early when the boy in front of him spins around in his chair to smile awkwardly.

He pulls his earphones down.

“Kageyama, right?”

He nods.

“You know, no one ever sits on that desk.”

“Okay.”

“It’s haunted.”

“Okay.”

Tobio wishes he had a superpower. He wishes he could speed up time and that the uncomfortable sinking feeling in his stomach would disappear along with the boy. His eyes are bright and curious. They shine in hues of brown and golden, dipping and bleeding all over his desk. Tobio looks away.

“I — um — I’m Aki, Aki Toshiyuki. You probably don’t remember me, I’m on the volleyball team.” His voice shakes, the edges of his nervousness etching themselves in between the words. His mouth opens and closes around the next sentence. He huffs and looks around instead as if he was collecting words off the walls and cracked floors.

“What position do you play?” Aki asks after a minute of looking.

Tobio looks back at him. “Setter.”

“Ah! Like Izumi-kun.” He scratches the back of his neck with a nervous laughter. “It’s exciting that we’re going to have two setters.”

“I am not joining,” Tobio says.

“Oh.”

“Sorry,” he says despite himself. He doesn’t even know what he’s apologising for.

“Is it the haunted desk? We can switch.” The boy looks concerned.

Tobio rises an eyebrow at him. It’s the haunted school, he wants to reply, the haunted team. How does one break a spell when you’ve been cursed to never be seen, to never be noticed?

The boy opens his mouth to say something, but the door of the classroom opens and the teacher walks in with a smile.

Aki offers a small smile and turns back around.

Tobio deflates in his chair.

 

Between classes he drowns his thoughts in music, fixing his gaze at the schoolyard, and at the swaying trees. He waits until he sees a leaf fall, then he begins counting the falling leaves.

There is clutter in the room; he can feel it vibrate through the old wood of his haunted desk. Chairs are being dragged and rearranged and Tobio has the fleeting thought it’s lunchtime. But his own lunch stays untouched in his school bag. He feels that if he eats, he’ll throw up with the way tension is sizzling in his gut. He’s being shaken like a can of soda pop. He wants to play, he wants to win, yet his cage keeps shrinking.

Someone taps him on the shoulder and the world comes to focus once again, the colours dripping back bit by bit, the noise filling in like water in a glass until it overflows. He yanks his earphones out, looking up.

The girl from yesterday, the captain of the girls’ team, is staring down at him, intensity burning in her black-brown eyes. He can see Aki and a couple of other boys looking over. Their worried eyes make him antsy. He wishes he could transform to water himself, drip in between the cracks in the goddamn floor, sink into the old wood and disappear.

“I’m here to challenge you,” the girl says, determined.

“I’m busy.”

“You’ll find time.” Her words are heavy, like stones. He scoots back in his chair unconsciously. “My brother’s coming home for the weekend with some friends. We’re organising a practice game with some of the boys. You should come, and if you win, I’ll leave you alone.”

“Why should I care about your brother or that game?” Tobio says, his fingers digging into his thigh.

“He’s on the Okayama University team,” she says and her chin juts proudly, “I don’t think you’d wanna skip that game.”

Tobio sighs, suppressing his intrigue — Okayama has the best university volleyball team in the prefecture, the only one that has a chance at reaching qualifications for All Japan. His interest bubbles under his skin like a river stream. If she doesn’t go away, it’ll break his skin and overflow.

“Fine,” he breathes out, “fine.”

She claps her hands. “Saturday, 9 am,” she exclaims.

Tobio’s gaze follows after her. She engages in a short conversation with Aki and he glows like a lightbulb. He can’t make out their words but he knows when the conversation switches to him.

He looks away and tries to count the falling leaves again.

 

The house is quiet on Saturday mornings. The sun peeks behind the hills and showers the ground in warm reds and oranges yet the wind blows cool and the leaves keep falling. September slowly releases the town from its warmer embrace, giving way to October.

Tobio runs, his feet hitting the damp earth in even thuds as he makes his way through the beaten earth and stone paths towards the old staircase that runs through the middle of the village like a spine, leading to the rundown shrine.

By the time he returns home, the sun has moved higher in the sky and the red and oranges have melted into a soft, cloudless blue. His grandmother is up when he walks in, brewing tea in the kitchen. The smell of sencha tea leaves with toasted puffs of rice permeates the air, making his stomach churn.

“Come here, Tobio,” she says and invites him to sit by tapping a chair with her palm. “Let’s eat.”

Instead of sitting down, he helps her carry in the rice bowls, some natto and eggs. She pours two steaming cups of tea and brings over a banana, placing it next to Tobio’s rice bowl. “For dessert,” she says and smiles.

“Thanks,” he answers gingerly, then gives thanks for his food.

They eat in silence, with only the soft clutter of chopsticks over porcelain dishes muttering through it. Only when they’re done does his grandmother speaks again. “Tobio, do you remember Hinata? He helped me finish the house once after your grandfather passed away,” she says and a fond smile blossoms on her face. “Golden hands, that boy.”

Tobio doesn’t remember. His childhood memories are a blur, unconnected images of his grandmother, of her salad garden, of the white peach tree in the backyard, of the unfinished porch, piles of wood and dust. It’s like he’s looking at them underwater, all bleary, washed away. Soon they’ll turn to white.

“His son plays volleyball, you should meet him,” she adds as she moves the empty dishes to the sink. He hums noncommittally, following after with the remaining ones: two cups and a teapot, the empty natto container. His arms itch to play, his bones gather dust inside his body, the volleyball lays abandoned in his room. It was not supposed to go like that, he was supposed to be great, he was supposed to win. His carefully woven perfectionism tightens painfully around his heart, the tiny team etched at the back of his mind. He looks at them and sees no faces, and their words and shouts are empty; the town dips and melts, drowning them. It’s a silent team, invisible; he finds no worth playing like that.

 

 

His Karasuno tracksuit mocks him with how familiar it still feels, soft yet crisp, the fabric still carrying the scent of the lavender washing liquid his mother used to use back in Sendai. Tobio knows his family cannot afford new training gear in the colours of the school, so he zips the plain black jacket with a sigh and tries very hard not to think about his old school’s name etched at the front. The kanji feel heavy on his shoulders and his mind keeps wandering back to Karasuno, despite himself. He wonders if their synchronised attacks have started working, if Nishinoya has succeeded in tossing, and if Yamaguchi has made the regulars now. He wonders if Tsukishima finally found what it takes for him to jump higher; all those building blocks, they stacked like a wobbly tower and the final piece was a win.

He pushes Karasuno out of his thoughts and locks in at the back of his mind, hangs the key around his neck for safekeeping. One day, he’ll throw it away.

The walk to the gym is quick with his favourite music a quiet beat in his ears and the familiar weight of his phone in his pocket.

 

Tobio hasn’t even had the chance to close the door behind him when the little captain’s loud voice carries around the gymnasium, like fireworks. “Ah! You came!” he yells.

The boy from the forest, with the orange hair. The boy who jumped high, high—

Kageyama clicks his tongue and looks away. His eyes are dangerous.

“Don’t ignore me, you—”

“Shouyou!” Manaka yells from across the court. “Behave!”

He deflates like a balloon, his lips pulling together into a pout. “You don’t even remember me.”

Kageyama remembers him, he remembers him very well. His well-developed physical agility and reflexes, his bright and enigmatic personality, his voice - loud and pearly, carrying between trees and old columns of the town’s shrine. He’ll never put any of that to good use, Kageyama thinks, and curls his fingers into fists. All that potential wasted, like spilt water in the cracked pavement.

“I remember you,” Kageyama says and the boy’s eyes shine. “You were lousy.”

He makes a step backwards, his face changing expressions until it settles into disbelief. “Don’t make fun of me,” he shouts, pointing at Kageyama, “Next time I won’t lose!”

“Fine.”

“I’ll show you—,” his words taper off as the gym door opens once more and the rest of the boys’ team walks in over excited yelling. One of them, a tall guy with spiky black hair is gesticulating excitedly, words melting together into something Tobio can barely make sense of.

“A! Kouji!” The orange boy yells. “You watched it without me!” He looks affronted.

The other stop in their tracks as if caught sticking their hands in the cookie jar.

“Shou-chan,” one of the other boys says, attempting damage control, “you were busy helping your mom and—“

“Izumi, you too?”

Izumi doesn’t shrink back, he makes a couple of slow steps forward, as if he’s approaching a child. He’s smaller too, Kageyama notices, slim and lean with light sepia-brown hair that parts at his forehead and curves towards his ears. His voice is gentle when he says they’ll watch the movie again with their captain. The boys behind him snicker, only the tall one with the spiky hair full-on laughs. It carries no jab, only endearment.

“Since you’re all here, let’s begin!” Manaka yells while approaching and claps her hands. She scans them quickly, counting. “Tsuji?” She asks.

“He’s helping his mother at the bakery today,” Aki answers.

Manaka nods. “Well then! We have just enough people for a 5v5.” Her smile is open, excited, the love for the game oozes from her in waves. “My brother and his friends need a wing spiker and a setter, and that makes 5.”

Her lips purse as she thinks. The three college boys are still setting up and bringing out the rest of the equipment while others seem to drift back to bickering about the movie.

“Ah!” she exclaims and claps her hands together. “We have two setters,” she says as her gaze moves to Tobio and her lips curl upward. “Izumi-kun and I will go play with my brother’s team. Kageyama-kun, you’re with the boys.”

“Hey!” the boy--Shouyou--yells. All he seems to do is yell, Tobio thinks as he clicks his tongue and folds his arms in front of his chest, annoyed. “I can’t win _against_ him like that!”

“Shut it, Shou-chan!” she says with the determination of a parent. “If he joins the team, you’ll have to work with him.”

Shouyou — _Hinata_ Shouyou, Tobio adds mentally, remembering the conversation he had with his grandmother — seems to think for a while before deflating yet again. He lifts his shoulders and his expression shifts completely - and just like that, he looks convinced.

“Plus,” Manaka adds and points towards Hinata, “the best way to prove yourself is to play your best game!”

Hinata beams at her and pumps a fist. “Yeah!”

Tobio’s baffled at how quickly she managed to change his mind.

 

The game goes terribly at first and Tobio struggles to make sense of the 4 broken pieces that need to form the rest of his team. He’d always toss only to the people essential for winning, yet here, no one is.

Aki’s posture is too stiff, he’s predictable and none of his spikes get through the more experienced defence of the other team. Sawada and Sekimukai do a decent, but fractured job at defending — the two of them like fire and ice — Sekimukai’s heated inexperience and Sawada’s good blocks yet quiet reluctance to fully pay attention to the game.

And then there’s Hinata, Hinata who can’t save a ball at all, yet runs like his life depends on it. Hinata who takes Tobio’s cold remarks head on and runs faster, jumps higher, shoulders rigid and eyes on fire.

He isn’t sure when exactly he made up his mind to start tossing to Hinata, testing. Maybe it’s when he was the closest to telling Hinata to give up and yet Hinata didn’t, maybe it’s in the way Hinata saved a difficult ball in juxtaposition of everything Tobio thought he’d do, maybe it’s in the way he blindly ran, trusting, like Tobio has never been trusted before.

One second Hinata is running and Tobio makes up his mind and aims, the next second the ball slams right thought the other team’s defence.

Everyone stares. The balls rolls away.

Manama shrieks, “You closed your eyes!”

Tobio’s stomach turns. He wants to yell, he wants to slap Hinata across the head and tell him that you can’t just close your eyes in volleyball, at any time, _period_. But his heart slams inside his chest as he takes the older boys’ startled expressions and thinks, despite himself, despite all logic and everything he has seen, _this can work_.

Manaka catches his eyes across the net and smiles.

They both know he’s gonna be here tomorrow, too.

 

The sky dims under the grey clouds and rains starts falling, the quiet pitter-patter following Tobio through the forest as he makes his way home. The green and yellow leaves shield him for the most part but rain still manages to find its way through the trees’ crowns and he has to constantly push his hair from his forehead to the back of his head, so it won’t stick to his skin.

Autumn comes slower here in the mountain towns than what he’s used to. A couple of weeks into September and the air is still damp, heavy with the humidity of a long-gone summer. The rain falls warm, making it muggy, and Tobio wishes for October to come faster.

“Kageyama!” Someone yells, the voice echoing through the empty forest path. “Wait!”

Tobio stops and turns around only to be met with the excited, happy face of Hinata. He’s riding his bike standing and his face is flushed from exertion.

He stops next to Tobio and struggles to catch his breath before he speaks. “I didn’t know you live that way. Arata?”

Tobio nods.

“Me too!” Hinata says and smiles even wider.

Tobio finds this oddly _too_ much and looks away.

“Let’s go together!” Hinata beams and gets off his bike.

“It’s okay, you can ride your bike,” Tobio tells him, “I’m fine with walking alone.”

Hinata gives him this incredulous look, his eyebrows all screwed together. “But I want to,” he says with determination. “Kaho-chan says I should get along with you.”

Tobio snorts and starts walking.

Hinata follows.

And somehow, in the following days; somehow in between the trees and the vine-line paths, between classes and awkward, uncoordinated first volleyball practices with the volleyball team, it becomes a routine.

 

Manaka finds him two weeks later while he’s sitting on his desk, staring idly through the window, thinking about volleyball. Practice hasn’t been going well. With the upcoming preliminaries and with how busy all athletes are in autumn, the girls’ coach has stopped coming to their side of the pitch altogether, leaving an uncoordinated, chaotic team, which only drive is the amateur passion some of the players have.

He notices her only when she taps him on the shoulder. She smiles weakly at him before dragging a chair to sit down.

“They need you,” she says, nails tapping on the wooden surface of his desk. She’s looking down at her fingers, instead of him, and her fringe falls into her eyes. Manaka blinks, but doesn’t brush it back. She looks tired. “You should coach them.”

“I’m not a coach,” Tobio says simply. “They need a proper—”

“The school doesn’t have money for that, Kageyama-kun,” she cuts him up, then sighs as if she regrets that. “Maybe if you bring a win,” she trails off and the tapping stops. Tobio wonders if she’s just going to lay on the desk next and fall asleep. The dark circles under her eyes certainly get at that.

“You should sleep more,” Tobio says despite himself. Manaka finally raises her head and stares at him, big, dark eyes wide in surprise.

“Our bus is too small,” she says, changing the topic, then hurries to explain, “I’ve been trying to find sponsors or anyone willing to drive you guys to the prelims. Otherwise…” Instead of completing her sentence she just waves her hands in front of her body.

Tobio nods.

“Called some of the parents, too,” she continues. “Most can’t spare a whole day off work, they need--ah--well, Kouji-kun’s dad agreed. It’s still not enough though.”

“I’ll ask my mom,” Tobio says with a shrug.

“That--that would be amazing, Kageyama!” Manaka beams at him, clasping her hands in delight. The tired seems to be draining out of her when she's smiling, Tobio thinks. He isn’t sure whey he cares, but he does.

“Please coach them!” she asks with determination, “I know you can, you’ve been in a good school, you know drills that _work_. Kageyama, they need you!” Her chair screeches loudly as she jumps upwards. This gets the attention of a couple of students who all turn to look at them. “Please!” she says and bows, her way-too-long fringe almost brushing the wooden desk.

Tobio feels himself flush under the attention, her words bouncing in his mind on repeat. Need? No one has ever needed him. He always felt like he needed to work and improve _despite_ his teammates, that he just had to do his own thing and deal with never being truly accepted.

“Please sit down,” he says and turns away before he adds a quiet, “Okay.”

Manaka doesn’t say anything back and somehow he knows she’s smiling.

When she leaves, he takes one of his notebooks out and starts writing down all the drills he thinks this team needs to do.

 

His mother is setting up the old kotatsu when Tobio walks in. He leaves his bag on the floor, kicks his shoes off and goes to help.

“It’s too early,” he says after they’re done. It’s only October and despite having switched to the winter uniforms in school, the air feels too stiff, too damp for the chill to truly set in.

“I know,” his mother says with a smile. “I got a job though. I was happy, I wanted something to do.”

“You did?”

She hums. “They’re looking for nurses in Mimasaka and agreed to take me despite my lack of experience.”

His mother had met Tobio’s dad during her last year of med school. Then she’d had him and never really worked while they were together. She said his dad felt better like that, taking care of them both. Until he left. Then she worked as a shop assistant at the tiny convenience store near their house until it closed down and they were forced to move.

“I’m starting training next month,” she says with a smile.

Happiness looks good on her - it makes her bright and glowing, just as he remembers her from his childhood when she sang him lullabies before bed. He looks at the kotatsu, at its scratched walnut surface and ugly beige fleece mats and thinks that maybe moving here wasn’t that bad.

“Mom?”

“Yes, darling?”

“Are you free at end of the month?”

His mother looks up and smiles, her eyebrows disappearing under her bangs.

“The team doesn’t have a way to get to the preliminary games,” he mumbles, suddenly shy.

“Oh, darling,” his mom says softly, “I’ll be happy to help!”

And before he can say anything to that, she’s hugging him, rocking slightly left and right and he just closes his eyes, lets himself be hugged for the first time in a long while.

 

Tobio works them to the ground. He spends every available minute coming up with training regimes and practice drills, anything that can help them in their last moment preparations. He utilises everything he has learnt from his coaches, both in Karasuno and Kitagawa Daiichi, tweaks the drills to individual abilities, stays hours and hours after practice to work with everyone, one by one, explaining and explaining until his throat runs dry.

He wonders why they even listen to him, but they do. Even Izumi doesn’t argue when Kageyama asks him to switch to libero. He’s too small, Tobio thinks, for a setter, yet quick and agile, making him better suited for a position that the team severely lacks anyway.

The most time he spends on the captain; Hinata is everything he’s not - he has no theoretical knowledge of the game, leaves everything to feeling, to emotion and energy that runs through his small body like liquid fire. Kageyama learns that Hinata never gives up, he learns that he runs and runs until his feеt give up underneath him, he jumps higher than everyone, and mostly, he trusts Kageyama, blindly and inexplicably.

It’s an odd feeling, uncurling in his stomach, warm, yet prickly, sending shivers down his spine every time the boy blindly follows a toss, always running, never stopping, eyes full of stars, a million of suns in one tiny heart.

He doesn’t understand but hopes that maybe one day he will.

 

The days keep going and autumn settles in like an old guest. The air gets drier, chillier, and Tobio learns to appreciate his winter uniform when the wind starts blowing stronger in his early treks to school. Leaves pile in his backyard and his grandmother brushes them aside, into small piles of red and yellow. The peach tree looks sad and naked with half of his leaves gone like it’s grieving for the warmer days.

Practice wears him down and with all the extra time he spends in the gym with his teammates, the sun has long dipped behind the mountains by the time he goes home.

Tobio’s dozing off, forehead pressed to the small oak table, arms splayed over volleyball notes. There’s a familiar ringing in the room, which confuse him for a second until the bleariness clears out of his mind and consciousness settles in again.

His phone rings and rings and rings. Unknown caller. Tobio wouldn’t usually pick up to strangers but the persistence of this on is annoying him to no end, so he scowls and picks up on the 10th incoming call.

He is met with a very exasperated, “ _Oh my god, Tobio-chan, where the hell did you go?_ ”

“Who is this?” Tobio asks, yawning. He checks the small electronic clock on the table. It’s a bit past 9.

“ _It’s Oikawa of course_ ,” the voice answers in mock-offence.

Kageyama knows damn well it’s Oikawa but he kind of wishes he didn’t recognise the voice so easily.

“ _Imagine my surprise_ ,” Oikawa goes on, totally unaffected by Kageyama’s silence, “ _when a little birdie tells me that my beloved kouhai and rival has quit volleyball! Did you lose your legs or something?_ ”

Being acknowledged by Oikawa does something strange to Kageyama, being remembered too. Something warms bleeds from his chest, making him feel heavier than normal.

“ _I demand an explanation!_ ” Oikawa ignores the silence once again.

Tobio takes a couple of more seconds to react, “I--I haven’t quit,” he mumbles barely audible.

“ _Last time I checked, Refreshing-kun is back to being a regular setter at Karasuno, so yeah, do explain,_ ” Oikawa demands.

“I had to move.”

“ _Where?_ ”

“Arata. It--it’s in Okayama.”

A long pause stretches between them, and Tobio can hear a faint, “ _Hurry up, Shittykawa, or I’m leaving you behind_ ” from the other line. It almost makes him smile. Iwaizumi was the only one who was really nice to him back at Kitagawa Daiichi. His voice brings memories and Kageyama finds out his stomach no longer constricts unpleasantly when he thinks about his middle school.

“ _Then make sure you go to nationals, Tobio-chan. How am I supposed to beat you when you’re in another prefecture?_ ” Oikawa finally breaks the silence and laughs, high and pearly. “ _Well then, I gotta go,_ ” he adds and hangs up before Tobio has any chance to respond.

Tobio holds the phone to his ear a little longer, the extended beep on the other end of the line keeping him company.

 

Two days later he gets a text message.

> **From: Tsukishima**
> 
> 5:23 We won.

“Who is it?” Hinata asks curiously, tilting his head sideways as if he’s a dog.

“No one,” Tobio says and shoves his phone back into his pocket.

Hinata hums, inconvenience. “Didn’t look like no one.”

Tobio clicks his tongue and considers him for a while. He doesn’t know what exactly is that Hinata possesses which makes Tobio so… comfortable. Like it’s okay to talk. “It’s an old teammate from Karasuno.”

“Are they winning?”

“Yes.”

Somehow, Hinata doesn’t pester him any further. He goes back to pushing his bike and babbles on about everything that crosses his mind. By the time they reach Tobio’s house, they’ve been through 6 different topics.

Somehow, Tobio doesn’t mind at all.

 

The first game of the preliminaries takes place in Tsuyama, a major city in Okayama prefecture, southeast from the tiny town of Arata. It’s a last minute change of locations, due to a pipe burst near the gymnasium that usually hosts the games, which makes the new location more difficult to find.

They’re running slightly behind schedule as the major road bleeds into a smaller one and the city comes into view. Tobio sits in the backseat, squished between Hinata and Aki, white Izumi sits at the front, diligently trying to help Kageyama’s mother navigate the unfamiliar city.

Hinata’s shaking again. A bit of colour has returned to the high of his cheeks and his eyes catch the morning light making them look almost as if they’re on fire. They had to stop so many times for Hinata to throw up that Tobio was seriously starting to worry the captain’s car sickness would have serious consequences for the upcoming match. But now, back in slow traffic, with the rising sun behind their backs, Hinata is buzzing with nervous excitement once again.

“Calm down, dumbass, or you’re going to be sick again,” Tobio says and without thinking, lets his palm press down a trembling thigh.

Hinata stills and his eyes flicker to where Tobio’s palm lays but before Tobio has the time to panic, he’s looking up at him, all bright eyes and big smile. “I am just excited, Kageyama,” he draws out Tobio’s name in a whine. “It’s our first official game!”

Tobio can feel the tautness in Hinata’s muscles under his palm, feels the tension in his body, pulling at him like a string. He’s trying to stay still, he realises, and his thoughts mix in a fury of something he can’t quite narrow down but still spreads warmth in his chest.

“We’re here!” Izumi chirps and Tobio startles and starts pulling away but Hinata stops him, placing his palm over Tobio’s. He’s warm, he’s so so warm and Tobio flushes despite himself for noticing.

“We’re going to win, Kageyama!” Hinata’s eyes are truly fire.

Tobio nods, words stuck in his throat. Then Hinata is pulling away, opening the door with force, all the energy from sitting still spilling out of him in one simple movement. He ends up apologising to Tobio’s mom profusely while she tries to calm him down. The ruckus wakes Aki up who has been dozing off, face pressed to the window, during the whole trip.

He opens his eyes blearily and yawns. “Are we here?”

Tobio nods and shuffles out of the car just as Sekimukai’s old Nissan pickup truck parks beside them and the rest of the team spills out of the car in a wave of excitement.

The Tsuyama General Gymnasium stands to their right, an old faded grass-green and yellow building, smaller than the one he would have played in if he stayed back in Sendai. There are a couple of children, playing and running around fountains at the front of the building and their screams echo around, dulling the tumult at the front gate -- a group of girls in volleyball jerseys speaking in loud voices over a leaflet, probably the program, that one of them is holding.

Tobio breaths in, refocuses entirely on volleyball, just as he had done many many times before, and follows after his team towards the building.

 

 

It's the third set, the score switches 26 to 26 after the guys of Soja High manage to pull another good pipe set point that Izumi fails to save. The other team calls a timeout and Tobio hunches over, sweaty palms holdings his weight atop of his knees, his heart hammering in his chest from overexertion.

They've fought so well, they've pushed and pushed, went as far as a third set; their small 7-man team with their faded green jerseys and unknown high school name at their backs. The quick has been working nicely, scoring most of the points in the game but their defence has been shaky -- is still shaky -- and despite their rotation, specifically created to fill in the holes, the team has been struggling.

Izumi is still uncertain in his new position Tobio made him take last month and his precaution and fear has earned him more mistakes than Tobio hoped for. Sekimukai and Sawada lack height compared to the tall middle blockers of Soja High and Tobio had to switch Sekimukai for Tsuji sooner than planned, despite Tsuji's issue with stamina. Aki has been a nice support, a reliable, albeit lacking strength, spiker, whose calmness mixes well with Hinata's never-ending stream of energy and fiery determination that uplifted the team in times Tobio competitive pride kept him silent, jaw clenched around words he didn't want to say.

Now, as he looks around at his teammates, even Hinata stays silent and unmoving, chest rapidly shaking with his laboured breathing. Everyone's tired, way past their limits. Tobio forces his jelly legs into action and moves to hold Tsuji up before his knees collapse under him.

"Can you play?" Tobio asks him and Tsuji, lips pressed into a thin line and fingers curled into tight fists, nods, stepping away.

"Good." Tobio nods and wipes the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. His thoughts swirl together in hazy confuse, trying to grasp at something, anything to say but he has never been good at that, good at talking---

"Keep fighting!" Hinata's voice echoes around the gymnasium like an explosion and even the boys from the other team turn to stare. "We can win this," he continues talking but he's looking at Tobio as he does, the fire in his eyes starting one, equally hot, in Tobio's gut, newfound energy surging through his veins. "Give me your best toss, Kageyama!"

Tobio, pushing down the manic laughter bubbling inside him, points back at Hinata. "You bet I will--dumbass!"

Izumi chuckles and shakes his head, taking back his position. "Let's do it!"

Hinata laughs, and the team follows.

 

 

And really, it all comes back to that fire that burns so strong in Hinata -- in the way his eyes glimmer with determination when he looks at Tobio, in the way he trusts him, so blindly and inexplicably selfless. He yells Izumi's name and the boy dives after the ball, and Tobio's only hope hangs on that voice. They can lose, right here, at Izumi's fingertips, close, but not close enough towards the falling ball.

But he saves it, he saves it and Aki yells something Tobio can't quite pick up because he's moving, moving before his mind can catch up with what has happened, following on pure instinct, eyes on the ball.

He angles himself for a toss as he scans the gym -- the enemy team as they spread and switch positions, expecting the attack, Aki, moving towards the net on his right, Kouji, who's yelling his name from the sidelines... and Hinata, who's running, moving, just behind his field of vision.

It all comes back to that fire. He feels it, kindling something inside him and he doesn't even need to think because he made the decision the moment Izumi saved the ball and Hinata started running, fast, faster than a player who just withstood 3 full sets should be able to run.

He looks at Aki.

He hears his name.

He sets the ball.

It's drop rings around the gym, _thud thud thud_ , and everyone falls silent.

Whisper raise as smoke, people still confused, as the ball rolls out and away of Soju High side of the pitch.

And then it all comes crashing down.

The whistle blows and Tobio’s world tilts sideways, his knees giving in and wobbling under the wave of pure bliss that washes over him.

Winning has always felt good, winning was what he played for, what he pursued blindly, believing that winning made him worthy — of playing, of his parents’ affection, of having a dream. It has been a slow kindled fire that always made him feel good, but now, _now_ winning is a flood and it sucks him in before he can even take a breath, it fills his lungs and weighs him down and as he meets Hinata bright bright eyes, wide as the realisation settles in, his stomach does a flip, and he finally, _finally_ gives in and smiles, letting the happiness to bubble up from inside him.

Next thing he knows Hinata is running towards him, colliding into him, knocking the air out of him and all he can do is to bury his fingers at the back of Hinata’s number 1 jersey and curl them in the sweat-damp fabric, pulling him closer.

“We won! Kageyama, we won!” Hinata’s voice is high and excited in Tobio’s ear, and his fast breathing tickles the skin on his neck as Hinata keeps clinging onto him.

And before he knows it the rest of the team is piling onto them, hugging and jumping, their voices an excited shrill around them and Tobio think that it might be okay after all — moving, this team, this town — it’s okay, because he worked for something and despite nothing being set in stone yet, despite the chance of them losing the next game and dropping out of prelims, he helped to earn this team — _his team_ — a win.

For once, he tries not to think of his father and the disappointment that seems to settle in his belly every time he does, tries not to think of the future and his prospects and his old team. Instead, he hugs Hinata back and allows himself to be weightless, present.

(art by [tenowls](http://tenowls.tumblr.com/post/168672482146/my-piece-for-hqbb-which-goes-with-binnie))

**Author's Note:**

> (calling kouji by his surname is painful)
> 
> this will be in two parts, i'll try to post the second one asap <3
> 
> [tumblr](http://matsinko.tumblr.com) l [twitter](https://twitter.com/binnie_al)


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